The Real World

yeah, well… the other day i was drinking some wine, reading a war novel, and laying in the sun. i must’ve drank too much wine, because i fell into a deep, deep sleep and dreamed about being on THE REAL WORLD, only i wasn’t a person, i was a stuffed pork chop and the other roommates were always trying to take a bite off of me.

i remember crying out, “FOR THE LOVE OF BERNIE, STOP IT! HAVE YOU NO COMPASSION OR SENSE OF DECENCY?”

they responded by pushing me into some edgar allen poe bbq pit and squirting some sauce over me and blazing up the charcoals as they argued about somebody wearing somebody else’s shirt. after i slow-roasted for the most hellish and boring five hours of my life, they removed me from the grill using gardening tools. they started chewing me down to my bone, but i couldn’t scream for the apple in my mouth. i was so hot in my dream, i woke up to find myself blistered with a really, really bad case of sun poisoning. when i looked in the mirror, instead of me i saw this…

HERE’S THE MORAL: protect your skin against the poisonous rays of the sun.

don’t be like me. don’t drink and smear your skin with Crisco and crank up Vaporwave and fall asleep in the open. many, many terrible things can happen to you! one of the worst of these is having to be careful so my arms don’t crumble off if someone bumps into me. i avoid crowds. i avoid most forms of transport. i have to watch out for stray dogs sniffing to snap and nibble at my stumpy, braised ankles. that shit hurts.

at least i’m eligible for disability, now, so that’s pretty okay.

but, honestly, while it’s flashy and fun at first, wearing tinfoil instead of clothing- to keep my rind from flaking off into the furniture- turns into a drag real quick.